Serenity Painted Death
by 0utfoxed
Summary: Three lives, forged by strife, entwined by fate, are bound in death by a single, legendary blade..[Cloud x Aerith, request fic]


**Serenity Painted Death  
By Outfoxed**

Clorith, this one's for you.  
a/n: lyrics are in italics

* * *

Faint lines of light broke through from the surface, tracing across the silvery water below, carving silhouettes and shades throughout the underground chamber, whose every facet appeared crystalline, in stark contrast with the coral structures above, which looked as if they had been grown out of the earth. 

The stillness of the world below was interrupted by several figures, hurrying down the spiral staircase leading downward, being led by a determined figure with a look of worry his face.

_returned from a hibernal dream  
voices fell like marble_

The small group reached the end of the staircase, and found itself standing on a stone structure rising from the lucent water. Cloud examined his surroundings, noticing that the waters encircled another, altar-like structure a little further away, separated from the stone mass by a number of stepping stones.

And there she was, kneeling in the middle of the translucid altar, unmoving, hands clasped together, as though in prayer. A halo of light surrounded the center in which she knelt, giving her the appearance of an angelic figure.

_no longer by my side  
gone all that would linger_

Cloud motioned for the others to stay, as he moved towards the altar, cautiously crossing the stepping stones. As he reached the small altar, the light subtly began to fade. A low voice whispered in his ear. _"She has turned against us. You must stop her.."_

He found that he could no longer move, no matter how desperately he tried. "You must _kill_ her." The voice commanded.

It was right. She was their enemy now. He had to kill her. It was the only way..

As he accepted the now-unmistakable truth, he felt control slowly returning to his body, and drew his sword. The blade towered over the defenseless girl, who made no move to escape. He raised it to strike, faintly aware of the others, somewhere in the distance, eons away, calling for him to stop.

The blade fell..

_ripped from my embrace  
melinda reflected in shafts_

Regaining his senses too late to keep the heavy blade from plunging down, Cloud forced the downward stroke to the side just in time, missing Aerith by only a hair's breadth. A few amber locks fell quietly to the ground, indicating how closely he had missed. He backed away, throwing his sword to the ground in horror and disgust at the deed he had almost committed.

"What are you making me do?" He called out, struggling to remain in control against the torrent of pain coursing through his head.

Aerith looked up at him, acknowledging his presence with a smile. Cloud tried to greet her back, to apologize for what he had almost done, to do _anything_. But the presence had returned, wrenching all control of his body from him.

A tearing sound echoed from above, as another figure appeared above the altar. Cloud watched, horrified, as Sephiroth descended, blade drawn, falling directly towards Aerith. A faint look of pain and surprise flashed across her features as the blade silently tore through her body.

He couldn't believe what was happening. She was being murdered right in front of him, and he was powerless to stop it..

_red line 'round her neck  
met the earth in silence_

The former Shinra general nonchalantly removed his sword from the ancient's body, where it faltered to the ground. Cloud, in control of his own body once more, ran towards Aerith, her delicate frame falling into his embrace.

He looked into her eyes, frantically searching for a sign of life. But she was gone..

_white faced, haggard grin  
of this serenity painted death  
with a halo of bitter disease  
a black paragon in lingering breath_

He was faintly aware of his friends, watching him from the edge of the water, as he carried out the fallen cetra's last rites. He clutched Aerith's earthly remains tightly, wishing desperately that he could breathe life back into her still warm body.

He felt anger and despair at how powerless he was to change anything. He hated the damnation of being a mere pawn of fate. There and then, he silently vowed to end the life of the False Ancient. He knew that revenge would not bring her back, that it would not right any wrongs. But it had to be done, all the same. It would mark the beginning of reparation and deliverance long due.

For one last time, he gazed lovingly at the spiritless young girl in his arms, unearthly beautiful, even in death. Then he let the body slip from his fingers, watching as the waters silently accepted the last survivor of the Cetra..

_saw her fading, blank stare into me  
clenched fist from the beautiful pain_

* * *

The world was a black abyss, interrupted only by a few particles of white light, scattered here and there in the distance. In this sea of nothingness two figures faced each other, silently engaged in mortal combat, shedding blood and trading blows, alternately attacking and defending as the opportunity presented itself. The would-be god and the former mercenary, now the only one who stood in his way, had fought for what felt like an eternity. 

But a victor was slowly emerging from their conflict. As the battle wore on, both began to succumb to fatigue, and began to make mistakes in their attacks. In the end, one of them made one too many, and was defeated..

Sephiroth, the legendary warrior, now broken and battered, fell to his knees. Blood mingled with sweat dripping down from his face, he looked up at his enemy in disbelief, inhaling ragged breaths. The fabled Masamune lay next to him, broken near the hilt, leaving only a small portion of the blade left, no larger than a dagger.

Cloud, letting go of his own weapon, walked over to his felled opponent. He knelt down and picked the broken blade up, then turned away, examining it. Removing the glove from his left hand, he placed it against the palm of his hand, still marked by the scar he received so many years ago..

"You can't..." Sephiroth uttered between labored breaths. "you cannot have won.."

He brought his hands against his face, examining the wounds that his opponent had inflicted upon him.

"...why?" He finally asked, disillusioned and broken.

"Why?" Cloud replied bitterly. "..you want to know why?" he closed his eyes, still not facing his nemesis, tears swelling up in his eyes.

"Everyone wants to know _why.._" he replied quietly, speaking through clenched teeth.

_darkness reared its head  
tearing within the reeling haze_

Enclosing his hand firmly 'round the hilt of the broken Masamune, he quickly turned around, screaming in fury and pain, driving it through his enemy's neck. And for the first time, the fabled Masamune drew blood..

_took control, claiming my flesh  
piercing rage, perfect tantrum_

Sephiroth's eyes went wide. He clawed away desperately at Cloud's hands, trying desperately to breathe, choking on blood his own blood, pouring from his mouth. Cloud's hands remained steady, unwavering. His eyes locked with those of his enemy as he exacted his final retribution.

_each and every one would die at my hand  
choking in warm ponds of blood_

His enemy's struggle grew weaker, until finally it stopped altogether. After a conflict that had lasted for years, the once great Sephiroth lay dead, in both corporeal and spiritual form. Cloud removed the sword from the lifeless corpse of the former Shinra general, panting, savouring every breath as if it might be his last.

A sapphire stream of light appeared behind him, emanating from above. Rising up, he could hear the voices of the lifestream, warm and inviting.

He made towards the light, then paused, reflecting upon the situation. How much death and destruction had he left in his wake, to reach this place, this final confrontation?

_"I can't accept this.."_ he thought.

He turned away from the light, as the illusory world around him faded into darkness..

_at last, weak and torn, I went down  
drained from strength, flickering breath_

* * *

Light faded as the sun set behind Mount Nibel. Several years had passed since the Meteor Crisis, and the world had since then started on the long road to recovery. 

The small hamlet of Nibelheim was now, for all intents and purposes, a ghost town, save for one lonely figure who remained, returning to his place of birth after many years.

Cloud entered the house in which he had once lived, years ago. It seemed appropriate to him that he should settle down there again, in that reconstructed facade of fading memories and dying dreams, having led a life of lies and deceptions, disappointments and failures. He was not even certain how much of the place that remained was from the original Nibelheim, if any of it at all.

The wooden boards creaked softly as he walked across from the pantry to the living room area. After a long period of deliberation, he had decided that tonight, he would take the final step of his journey..

He opened the top drawer of the cupboard, where a small object wrapped in a simple piece of cloth lay. Even though his final battle with Sephiroth had been fought on a different plane of existence, he had brought back with him a memento: The Masamune, or at least what remained of the mythical blade, still encrusted with the blood of the last life it had claimed.

He walked towards the middle of the bedroom floor and sat down, cradling the legendary weapon in his hands. Many nights before he had considered doing this, but... this night he would commit the act. He pressed the still-sharp blade against his wrist, hesitating, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath.

A faint draft brushed across his shoulders. As he waited, painfully building up the courage to proceed, the world gradually, almost subtly, grew brighter around him.

"Cloud?" A soft voice asked. "What are you doing?"

_came with the moon  
the wayward in conscious state_

He turned around, and froze, awed by the impossible sight facing him. A sight he though he would never see again.

_"This can't be real.."_ he told himself. But her visage was unmistakable. The red jacket and pale pink dress, the ribbon tying up her chestnut brown hair, her angelic features, and her bright, jade eyes. Aerith stood at the edge of the room, looking at him, with a curious, worried expression on her face.

Cloud looked back at what he was certain was either a ghost, or a figment of his twisted imagination. Guilt washed over him, for the act he had been about to commit, and for the one he was unable to prevent so long ago..

_flanked and barred in destiny's end  
underneath with hope in laches_

She approached, sitting down next to him, smiling calmly as she always had, carrying with her a familiar, comforting presence.

"Aerith.." He uttered her name in disbelief, then turned his gaze to the floor, unable to face her.

"Can you ever forgive me?" He asked. Aerith paused, as if pondering his question for a moment.

"No, Cloud.." she replied softly. He looked up at her questioningly, crushed.

_swathed in filth, any would betoken  
starlit shadows on the wall_

She gave him a reassuring smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. To Cloud's surprise, he sensed that it was solid, real. Warm to the touch..

"There's nothing to forgive." Aerith explained.

She regarded him mournfully. "All this time, and you still blame yourself?" she asked.

Cloud looked away again. There were so many things he wanted to say, but now it seemed that he could hardly bring himself to speak.

"Aerith..." He began, struggling to find the right words. "..I.."

Aerith smiled again, touching her finger lightly against his mouth. "Shhh.." she cooed as she let her hand fall on his, drawing closer, pushing the minatory blade away. Closing her eyes, she brushed her lips softly against his..

_Finally there to collect me  
From the bowels of sin_

* * *

Cloud Strife, the greatest warrior the world had never known, lay on the cold wooden floor, blood pouring from both wrists, trailing rivers of the crimson liquid across the ground, mere breaths away from oblivion. 

_white faced, haggard grin  
of this serenity painted death_

Despite this bleak scene, there was a look of calmness upon his face, as his mind and soul were somewhere else, far away..

_with a halo of bitter disease  
a black paragon  
in lingering breath_

* * *

**Author's notes**:

Better late than never, right? Sorry if it was a bit dark. And short. The song is, as the title suggests, **Serenity Painted Death** by swedish metal gods **Opeth**. If you like the fic and haven't heard it already, I strongly suggest you look it up.

**Misc Notes**:

1. In keeping with the legend of the Masamune, it didn't draw blood when Aerith died, but I wanted to use it stylistically later on when it was broken.

2. There's a subtle reference to Opeth's "twin" albums, Damnation and Deliverance in the second-to-last paragraph of the first part of the fic:

_"He felt anger and despair at how powerless he was to change anything. He hated the **damnation** of being a mere pawn of fate. There and then, he silently vowed to end the life of the False Ancient. He knew that revenge would not bring her back, that it would not right any wrongs. But it had to be done, all the same. It would mark the beginning of reparation and **deliverance** long due."_

Well, 'till the next fic!


End file.
